Baby of Shame Read Online Free PDF

his palms smoothed her loosening thighs. And when his teeth grazed at the tender lobes of her ears, bit softly, so softly, at her swollen lip, the low, aching moans deep in her throat came again.
    Reality fled. It was somewhere else. Another universe. A universe where pain and problems were, where worry and anxiety bit deep into the bones, where dread and fear pressed from all directions.
    But here—here there was only bliss. Bliss such as she had never known, had never known existed.
    How could the human body feel so much? How could the sense of touch be so exquisite? So all-consuming.
    And how could she want more of it? And more, and more, and more?
    Until her body was a single living flame, a flame that was burning, burning ever fiercer.
    His body pressed her down. She felt its strength, its power. Her hands revelled in the taut, sculpted muscles of his back, his shoulders. Her thighs strained against the sinewed cords of his. Against her belly she felt the long, hard shaft of his manhood.
    A hunger started to grow in her. She writhed against him. His tongue was laving the swollen, aching peak of her nipple, sending flames shooting through her breast, making her fingers claw over his shoulders. From her throat tore the soft, aching moans she could not suppress.
    She writhed against him again, the hunger mounting and mounting.
    He smiled against her breast, lifted his head.
    His dark eyes, flared with gold, looked down at her.
    She felt the quickening pressure of his probing manhood.
    Hunger bit through her again, fierce, unsated .
    She twisted instinctively against him, feeling the pressure surge.
    She wanted…
    She gazed up at him, helpless, wanting.
    ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I know.’
    The moan came from her throat again. Her eyes dilated, distended.
    Pleading for what she wanted…
    His features tensed, as if he were suddenly exerting a huge, overpowering control. Then, with slow, deliberate descent, he entered her.
     
    Rhianna stirred. Her body felt heavy, languorous. She didn’t want to wake. She wanted to stay within the dream she was having, enfolded within the circle of strong arms, clasped tight against the warm, hard body of the man cradling her in his sleeping embrace.
    An embrace that had come only after an ecstasy so intense she had cried out, lips parting, throat arching, while her body writhed like a living, burning flame of bliss, on and on and on, until her whole being was one molten sheet of unbearable, exquisite sensation.
    Only then, as the burning brand that was her body cooled to nothing more than a softly pulsing warmth, had he rolled back against the pillows in a fluid, exhausted movement, pulling her against him, folding her against his body. He had murmured something to her—she knew not what. Soft, sibilant words that were a breath in her ear. His hand had splayed possessively across her abdomen, his mouth warm against her shoulder.
    She had felt weak with wonder, glowing with the last embers of the fire that had consumed her, warm and safe and sated.
    She had slept a deep, deep sleep in the circle of his arms, her dreams capturing this moment of perfect happiness.
    But now brightness was pressing on her lids, bringing her to reluctant wakefulness. She blinked open her eyes.
    He was leaning over her. His eyes were heavy with desire. Deep within, they stirred her, warming the blood in her veins. Slowly he bent down to softly kiss her, his lips warm and tender.
    ‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice low, husky. ‘I should ask you whether you slept well, but I happen to know…’ long lashes swept over dark eyes ‘…that you slept very little last night.’
    His gaze washed over her as she lay back against the pillows, her hair tumbled, her lips beestung from the night’s long, long passion.
    ‘You are even lovelier than you were last night.’ The husk was thicker, and long lashes swept over his eyes again. ‘I only wish…’ His voice trailed off.
    She gazed up at him,